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by ThatOneWriter15



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 14:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19947718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneWriter15/pseuds/ThatOneWriter15
Summary: When Castiel returns home after being gone for a month, he discovers just how much he's been missed.





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**Author's Note:**

> At SPN Dallas 2019, Misha claimed he believed all it would take for Castiel to be truly happy is to be told he was missed by those close to him. 
> 
> It kinda broke my heart. 
> 
> Oh, and also inspired this work.

The clacking of the keys on her laptop echoes around the empty Bunker.

She’s burning the midnight oil, scouring recent news articles for anything “weird.” It’s been a good ten days since she, Sam, and Dean have worked a case. Saying they’re restless would be an understatement.

And it’s not just from the lack of a mission. Castiel has been MIA for over a month, and, try as they might, they cannot track down a lead as to what he’s up against. Smart money is on, of course, something in Heaven, but the dozen angels they’ve questioned aren’t talking.

She forces herself through each day, whatever else is on her plate, but the truth is, Cass never leaves her mind.

The scraping of the Bunker’s entrance causes her to jump in her chair. Sam and Dean headed out to the bars to hustle pool only an hour ago. They’re home so soon?

She closes her laptop and descends the steps from the library to the map room.

“Did you guys strike out already?” she teases. “You’re gettin’ rusty.” She’s about to remind them of the $800 she scored from some frat boy last weekend, but a realization stops her dead in her tracks.

There is only one set of footfalls.

She catches beige fabric fluttering against the staircase’s railing, the glint of his somehow-always-shiny oxford shoes. 

Once he makes it to the floor, he halts. 

There she is. He was alive for millions of years prior to the two of them meeting, but the past five weeks, two days, and fourteen hours without her were an eternity. 

Her eyes consume the sight of him, seeking proof that he’s real. “Cass?” 

“Hello.” He smiles, but it vanishes quickly. He dreams of a way he could skip the mandatory explanation as to why he’s been gone, a way to have everything the same as it was before he left. It’s already been too long since he’s heard her laugh, too long since he’s received her affection.

Rushed feet take off in his direction. Deprived arms encircle his waist underneath his suit jacket. With her face buried in his chest, her words muffled by his tie, she states, “You’re home.”

Cass hesitates briefly, but reciprocates her hug. He’s desperate for the comfort, but he’s unworthy of her gesture. 

She tightens her grip, and he succumbs to her warmth, resting his cheek against her hair.

After several minutes, it’s becoming difficult for her to breathe, so she reluctantly pulls away. His hands remain on her waist. Hers slide from the sides of his face down to his elbows. 

“First things first--are you okay?” She can see the exhaustion and defeat in his crystal-blue eyes.

He can’t miss the concern and fear in hers. And he hates himself for being the cause of that pain. Suddenly, he wonders if he should have returned at all.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping it’s convincing. 

She sighs in relief, her whole body releasing tension she’d harbored for weeks. “Come sit.”

She walks over to the map table, and Cass claims the seat directly beside hers. 

“I wanna hear everything,” she promises. He swallows. “But, first, I’ve gotta call Sam and Dean and tell ‘em you’re home and safe.”

As she dials, Cass is silently surprised that her top priority is to notify the Winchesters of his whereabouts, _not_ to question him about his absence.

After four rings, Sam and some awful country music greet her. “Hey!”

“Sam. Listen, I’ve got--”

“Are you there?”

The ruckus of the bar is clearly overshadowing her words. “Sam, it’s important. Would you--”

“Hang on a sec. We’ll go outside.” 

She breathes unsteadily. She needs them to _know_ about Cass. Now.

Castiel’s brow knits as he observes her stress.

Sam’s voice is distant, but she detects him yelling at someone.

“Hallelujah. This song’s making me nauseous.” Dean. The corners of her mouth tug upward. 

“Hey, sorry about that,” Sam eventually announces.

“You’re on _Speaker_ ,” Dean informs her. 

“Didja find a case?” Sam ventures. 

“Cass is here,” she blurts out. 

There’s no response from the other end. She notes the angel next to her looks nervous. 

“Wh-what?” Sam’s shock is easy to read.

“At the Bunker?” Dean wonders brightly.

“Yeah, he just got back ten minutes ago.”

Sam chuckles. 

Keys jingle.

“Be there in 20,” Dean vows.

The call disconnects.

She shoves her phone in her jeans pocket. “They’re coming.”

“Right now?” Cass inquires.

“Yes, right now.” She smiles with uncertainty. 

He stares at her, his lush lips in an open pout. They dropped everything… for _him_.

“Cass.” She slips her hand into the one he has resting on the table and gives it a squeeze. “We have missed you _so much_.” 

He’s so overwhelmed with a sense of genuine companionship, words fail him. But that’s okay. Because _her_ words and the Winchesters’ enthusiasm are all he needs in that moment.


End file.
